Raoul's Choice
by Chloe McClure
Summary: Oneshot. The idea for this short story is taken from Stephen King's The Stand where Nadine comes to Larry seeking redemption. Dark. Please read and review. Thank you!


A cool breeze caressed his face as he stood upon the balcony outside his bedroom. His knuckles were white as he gripped the railing, though he didn't notice. He gazed out over the city, unseeing, his thoughts in turmoil. He had finally had enough. It was because of _her_, of course. He closed his eyes and pictured her once more, her eyes large and frightened as she gazed up at him. The tears had come easily, spilling down her porcelain cheeks, filling him with impotent rage. Oh, how he loved her!

Abruptly, he flung himself away from the railing and stalked back into his room. He had done all that he could and now, he washed his hands of her. He had wanted to save her, to take her away, but she had refused, even as she trembled in his arms. Even now, remembering how her eyes had been haunted and filled with fear, pulled at his heart, testing his resolve. But his resolve was strong. Everyone learned sooner or later that once he made up his mind, it would not be changed. He had offered her safety, comfort and all the love she could ever ask for, but it was somehow not enough for her. It was time to put the past behind him and begin to heal his broken heart.

The days passed slowly and time worked its magic, gradually lessening, though not erasing, his terrible pain. A month went by, then two. He began to go out again, but never to the opera. Never again would he go _there_. He occupied his mind with other things. He hunted and went to the gentleman's clubs in the city. Before he knew it, three months had passed and he realized that he no longer thought of her every day. He was glad of this because each thought of her threatened to drag him right back into her arms.

It was near the end of the third month when something wonderful happened. He met someone else! Ah, but how different the two were! Where Christine was quiet; Antoinette was vivacious. Christine was frail; Antoinette was robust. Christine was innocent; Antoinette had a wicked sense of humor. Christine was fair; Antoinette was dark, her ebony hair nearly blue in its depths. Antoinette was everything that Christine was not. He fell in love much sooner than he expected.

So what if he still thought of Christine from time to time? That was to be expected. And if he awakened in the night with tears on his face, having dreamt of Christine, what of it? It was only a dream after all. He would never admit it, not even to himself, but sometimes, when he held Antoinette in his arms, he imagined that it was Christine he held.

It wasn't long before he proposed to the Lady Antoinette. Ah, yes, in addition to all her other favorable attributes,Antoinette was his equal in social standing. She truly had it all. Perhaps it was all a bit sudden, but, he reasoned, he was old enough to know what he wanted. He insisted that they marry as soon as it could be arranged. He personally delivered the news to each and every newspaper within the vicinity of Paris and some without, demanding that they run the announcement in the very next publication. Despite the trouble it caused the printers, it was done just as the Vicomte wished.

The night before his wedding, he once again found himself on the balcony, gazing out on the city. His thoughts were, once more, in turmoil. Tomorrow, it would be done. He would be married to Antoinette and the finality of that outcome had not escaped him. A voice cried out from deep within his heart that he was making a terrible mistake. Christine needed him! How could he abandon her? She may be in danger from this man, this _angel_ she claimed held her within his iron grip. But, he thought, she must love him, for she had refused to run from him. She didn't _want_ my help, he reasoned. Oh, Christine, he thought miserably, what have I done?

He turned to go back inside, but something caught his eye. He frowned and moved back to the railing. His gaze fixed upon an apparition in white standing in the garden below his balcony. His heart began to pound against his chest. It could not be! _Christine_! He blinked once, twice, but the figure remained, her pale face upturned, her eyes locked upon his.

"Wait there, I'm coming down," he called to her, then turned and sprinted through his room and down the stairs. He was nearly out of breath when he reached the garden and expected Christine to be gone, but there she stood, her long white dress fluttering in the light breeze. He took a step toward her, then stopped, uncertain what to do.

"Raoul." She spoke his name, that one word filled with longing and suddenly she was in his arms. Time was erased, hurts were forgiven and broken hearts mended in that moment as he lowered his head and claimed her lips with his own. Her hands slid up his chest and entwined in his hair and he groaned, pressing her closer, his hands fisting in the soft cloth of her dress.

Despite his fierce desire, Raoul had always been a gentleman and tonight was no exception. Reluctantly, he disentangled himself from Christine's arms and stepped back. Tears wet her cheeks as she smiled up at him. Raoul's heart was so full he was unable to speak as he gazed at her. At last, he was complete.

"Are you real?" Raoul asked incredulously as he reached one tentative hand out to caress her cheek.

"Yes, Raoul, I'm real," Christine replied, her musical voice stirring his very soul as she spoke. "I've missed you so!" She stepped forward and embraced him again, lifting her face to his. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to give in to the soft kiss once more. Soon, however, he forced himself to pull back.

"Oh, Christine, are you sure this is what you want? Are you absolutely certain?" Raoul could barely keep the fear from his voice as he asked the question he dreaded the answer to.

"Yes, my love, I am sure. It's you I want. Tonight and forever."

Relief washed over him and he pulled her into his embrace, this time only holding her, reassuring himself that she was, indeed, here and by her own choice. "Oh, Christine, you don't know how happy you've made me! I've never stopped loving you, not for a moment. I tried, you know, but I couldn't, not even when I met Antoinette." He frowned as he remembered Antoinette for the first time. He cared a great deal for her and hated to have to hurt her, but he could not marry her when it was Christine that he loved, could he? The timing was terrible, of course, but it couldn't be helped. He would let her down as gently as possible.

"Let's not speak of that tonight, Raoul. Tonight is for us, my love." Christine gazed adoringly into his eyes, causing his thoughts to scatter. He sighed, knowing this was something that could not be put off. He stepped back again and held her at arm's length.

"Oh, Christine, you don't know how much I want to forget everything that's taken place in the past few months, but I can't. I have to tell Antoinette, and then you and I shall be married as soon as I can arrange it."

"Raoul, you don't understand. I love you and I want to be with you, but it has to be tonight." Christine frowned slightly as she spoke and her eyes had begun to take on that haunted look they had always had before. Unease settled deep within Raoul's stomach as he looked at her.

"Christine, I realize you're eager for us to be together. I am too, my love, but it will only be a couple of weeks at the most before we can be married. Surely we can wait that long!" He laughed a little, attempting to lighten the situation.

"Raoul, no, you must listen to me! I need to be with you and only you! It's the only way, don't you see? You must be the one, Raoul. Only you can free me!"

Raoul took another step back, his face betraying his emotions. "Christine, you're not making sense! I love you, but I am engaged to be married! Tomorrow, in fact. I will not betray my fiancé while she still _is_ my fiancé. I will tell her tomorrow before the wedding and try to let her down as gently as I can, but I am sure it will be hard on her. Once we've called off the wedding, you and I can make preparations to be married. Can't you wait for me, Christine? Two weeks is not so very long."

"Raoul, please, I'm begging you!" Tears ran freely down her cheeks as she beseeched him. She closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his once more, her kiss desperate, searching. Raoul responded, but his heart was breaking. Reluctantly, he grasped her upper arms and set her away from him.

"This is not like you, Christine. You are not yourself. I care very much for Antoinette and, though I want to marry _you_, I will not betray her in this manner. I owe her that much at least. The Christine I loved would have understood that."

"Oh Raoul, you can't mean that. Please don't turn me away. If you do, I shall leave and never come back. I'll never be free, Raoul, never. Don't do this, I beg you." Her eyes begged, and her lips trembled. She stood there in the rising moonlight, her hands at her sides, no longer touching him.

It took every ounce of strength he possessed but he made his decision. "I'm sorry, Christine. I can't do this. I _won't_ do this."

Christine stared at him in horrified silence, then, sobbing she turned and fled. He took a step after her, calling her name, but then she was gone, leaving him standing in the moonlit garden, his heart in a million pieces. What have I done, he thought for the second time that evening.

The wedding went forward as planned the following day. Raoul knew in his heart that Christine had meant what she said about never coming back. If Antoinette noticed that her new husband was uncharacteristically silent, she didn't let on. She loved him so much, there wasn't much she wouldn't have forgiven him. Perhaps it was just her imagination, she thought as she watched him stare into the distance as his brother congratulated him.

Raoul and Antoinette made a lovely couple and complemented each other greatly. Slowly, Raoul came out of the awful black depression that had gripped him. Antoinette rejoiced to see that whatever terrible event had taken place, it seemed to be over now and Raoul was trying to move on. Instinctively, she knew that whatever it was, it was best to leave it in the past. Sometimes, it was simply better not knowing. Antoinette had learned this lesson early on in her relationship with Raoul. She knew that Raoul cared for her very much, but there was a part of his heart that he held back from her. Being a very intuitive woman, and more than a little worldly wise, she knew that Raoul had had his heart broken by some other woman. He didn't need to tell her this, she could see it in his eyes when he looked at her. She could read it in his desperation to have all the newspapers carry the announcement of their wedding and his apparent desire to get married as quickly as possible. He was proving that he had moved on and she felt he was trying more to prove it to himself than to anyone else.

Antoinette knew that the honorable thing to do would be to end their engagement, but the funny thing was, that she had fallen completely in love with the Vicomte. Perhaps this other woman held a part of his heart, but Antoinette would have his hand in marriage and bear his children. She was no fool, Antoinette. So, she smiled brightly throughout the trial of a wedding day and no one knew that her heart was breaking just a little inside every time she saw that broken look on her husband's face. With unimaginable patience, she drew him back to her, wooing him all over again. He responded to her, how could he not? Deep inside, however, he wondered what had become of Christine and longed to be with her.

Three weeks after the wedding, Raoul arrived at home one evening with a bouquet of flowers for his wife. Antoinette squealed with delight when she saw them and rewarded him with a long kiss. He kissed her back, thinking that he was very fortunate to have such a lovely woman who loved him so. She went to put the flowers in a vase and he picked up the newspaper and headed to his study to read a bit before dinner.

Raoul settled down into his most comfortable chair and unfolded the newspaper. The front page headline read "NEWLY DISCOVERED DIVA, CHRISTINE DAAE FOUND DEAD IN DRESSING ROOM" Raoul's mind refused to grasp what he was seeing and he read it again and then a third time before he understood the words written upon the page. The newspaper slipped from his nerveless fingers and fluttered to the ground as he stared, unseeing, at the place it had just occupied in front of his face. He blinked and grabbed up the paper again, checking the date. Yes, it was todays paper. He read the story quickly, ascertaining that she had been found yesterday evening just before she was to have performed. His eyes scammed over most of the story, stopping only when he saw the words "Opera Ghost".

_Mademoiselle Daae was to have performed yesterday evening in the opera's production of Faust. Some have attributed her untimely demise to the notorious Opera Ghost, claiming Mademoiselle Daae had a bright future ahead of her and had no reason to commit suicide. _

Raoul's fingers twisted into the fragile paper and he crumpled it as his eyes filled with tears. He lowered his head to his hands and wept, then, his shoulders shaking. He was still sobbing when Antoinette came upon him nearly half an hour later. Alarmed she rushed to his side when she saw how upset he was. She opened her mouth to ask him what was the matter, but her eye fell upon the newspaper that had fallen once more from his hands and now lay on the floor before him. Despite the terrible crumpling, she could make out the headline. So that was the other woman, she thought as she put her arms around her husbands shoulders. Conflicting emotions warred within her as she held Raoul in her arms. Relief that this woman was out of Raoul's life for good; guilt for having had such a wicked thought. Antoinette rocked her husband back and forth, whispering soothing words until his sobbing had subsided.

Raoul stood over the newly turned earth, gazing down at where Christine was buried. In his hand he held a single white rose. He knelt by the grave and carefully placed the rose upon it, his fingers lingering on the perfectly formed petals before he straightened and stood. His mind went back to the night she had come to him, begging him to help her, to save her. Now look at what fate he had condemned her to, he thought. He closed his eyes tightly, fighting back the tears. No, what's done is done, he thought. There was only one way now to make amends.

Raoul reached into his coat and pulled out the pistol he'd brought with him. He raised it to his temple and squeezed the trigger.


End file.
